


Detour

by devil_on_your_shoulder27384



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-5x13, Post-Canon, Romance, Smut, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29340807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devil_on_your_shoulder27384/pseuds/devil_on_your_shoulder27384
Summary: The boys take a trip.Multi-chapter PWP WIP, post-series. Each chapter is readable as a standalone.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

The only thing Justin’s tiny bed actually fits is his tiny room in his tiny apartment, and possibly a twin - a _twin_ \- is okay if you’re a 5’2” twink, but Brian has to twist himself up in strange ways just to have his feet and his head on the mattress at the same time.

Then again, it’s an excellent excuse for curling up around Justin and burying his face in the sweet-smelling place behind his ear, so Brian doesn’t really complain. Much.

Justin seems stressed today, overworked. He’s still working at the shitty job he started when he got here, no galleries willing to hire him - idiots - that he’s found. He’s half-asleep, breathing in fluttery soft exhales, and maybe that’s what makes Brian say it, not that it matters.

He puts a hand on Justin’s arm. “Come to Paris with me next month,” he murmurs.

Justin freezes. He sits up, his warmth immediately missing from Brian’s chest. “I’m sorry, what?”

Brian touches his hand, wondering how he manages to do this ever single fucking time. “I have that meeting,” he says. “They insisted on company headquarters?”

Justin’s still staring at him. “Okay...”

Brian smiles, trying to steady himself. “I just thought- it’s only five days, but we’ve- I’d like to take you somewhere. You deserve a break.”

Justin’s starting to smile, now, and the steel bands around Brian’s chest loosen. “You want to take me to the City of Love.”

Brian rolls his eyes.

“Where couples put locks on a bridge to symbolize their everlasting bond.”

Brian shrugs.

Justin lies back down on top of him. “I’ll have to think about it- you know, figure out if I have the time, look at my calendar-”

“Okay,” Brian says. “Sure-” but then Justin tackles him to the bed, laughing and kissing him soundly. “Yes,” he says, still kissing him. “Yes, yes, of course, Brian, god. God. Yes.”

Brian can’t stop himself from grinning back. “I love you,” he murmurs, and Justin kisses him again, even harder and much, much longer.

* * *

Now they’re in the first-class lounge at LaGuardia an hour before boarding. Justin’s watching Brian drain the last of his beer, trying not to stare too conspicuously at the gorgeous long line of his throat, his head thrown elegantly back.

Brian sets the bottle down and looks at him, smiling gently. He’s been doing that a lot today, right from when he picked Justin up at the apartment. He looks shy and soft when he does it, like he’s opening up a secret little part of himself just for Justin. Justin is so in love that it hurts.

He settles back in the cushy armchair he’s sitting in and looks back across the table at Brian. “Thank you,” he says, brushing one of his hands over Brian’s. “For taking me with you.”

Brian turns his hand over and folds Justin’s fingers into it. “I’m glad you’re coming,” he says, and leans across the table and kisses him, light and sweet. They’re far from the only people here, and Justin is sure they’re drawing at least a few scandalized looks. He’s so far from caring about it that he barely registers the thought before it passes.

Brian has to work, coordinating meetings before they take off, so while he taps on his laptop keyboard, Justin sketches the room, the bored-looking businesspeople and the heiresses and the few wide-eyed visitors who must have been bumped up from business class. But soon enough he returns, as he always does, to drawing Brian, capturing the intense focus in his beautiful eyes as he works. Justin knows this look maybe better than he knows himself. He’s been the focus of it more times than he can count, those endlessly deep dark eyes teasing him, taunting him, daring him to ask for what he wants and turning wider and darker when he does.

His train of thought takes that and runs with it, and soon enough he’s drawing a memory of Brian on the page next to the finished sketch of Brian working. It’s him spread out gorgeous and lanky on the loft bed, a king on his throne. Justin draws himself in too, lying next to Brian in the crook of his arm. They’re looking at the ceiling, together, but they’re talking, the way they do after really fantastic sex, not wanting to get up, not yet, just stretching the moment out a little bit longer.

He’s just adding the final shading when they’re called to board. He closes his sketchbook and picks up his bag, and he and Brian walk side-by-side to the gangway.

* * *

It takes a second once they’re on board for Justin to realize that Brian had said _suite_ , not seat, because they have an actual fucking private suite in the first-class cabin. There’s a double bed and a private shower, and a wall-mounted TV and a leather loveseat and-

Justin turns and stares at him. “This is how you travel?”

Brian looks at him for a moment before answering. “I usually take business. But I thought- for our trip-”

Justin kisses him, hard. “I-” he says. “This is- it’s too nice, Brian, it’s-”

Brian bumps his nose, that soft smile back on his face. “Like I said,” he says. “You deserve a break.”

Justin has to stare at him for a little longer before he can speak. “I love you,” he says, and kisses Brian again, savoring it. “Brian. God. I-”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you,’” Brian says, smirking. Justin smacks him on the arm, then murmurs, “thank you,” low and hot right up against his mouth, and they’re back to normal in a heartbeat.

An attendant knocks on the door with caviar and a bottle of Dom Perignon. Brian speaks quietly to her before closing the door.

“Asking for a do-not-disturb sign?” Justin says, grinning.

Brian chuckles, crowds him onto the bed and pops the champagne. He takes a swig right from the bottle and hands it to Justin. “Just checking when meals are served during the flight. I know how bitchy you get when you haven’t eaten.”

“Fuck you,” Justin says, mostly out of habit, and kisses him, beginning to undo the buttons on Brian’s shirt. It’s like unwrapping a present, Brian’s smooth golden skin becoming slowly more available to his hands. They didn’t have time for real sex this morning, only time for a blowjob apiece before they left for the airport, and Justin is starving for him.

He pushes the shirt off Brian’s shoulders and looks him slowly up and down, dark biteable nipples, mouthwatering ridged abs, his delicious broad firm chest, his strong toned arms, his _shoulders_ , oh, fucking hell-

Justin feels himself being tugged forward, and he snaps out of it. Brian’s chuckling lightly at him, pulling his shirt over his head, nudging their foreheads together and undoing their pants. He smiles just slightly when Justin rubs their faces together, inhaling the moment hungrily.

“This your first trip to the mile high club?” Brian murmurs, his lips on Justin’s ear. Justin grins and leans against his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me?” he says, feigning shock. “Also, we’re on the ground.”

Brian laughs and nudges him out of his pants and underwear, turning them around and laying them down on the bed. “Not for long,” he purrs, in that low smoked-honey voice he only uses in bed or very nearby. “I’ll make you come right as we’re lifting off. There’s nothing like it.”

Justin pulls the blankets over them - the dividing walls give them privacy, but he does have _some_ dignity left - and bites at his jaw. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Brian says. He runs a hand through Justin’s hair with just the barest hint of possessiveness in the motion. “I wanna fuck you all the way across the Atlantic,” he breathes. 

Justin nuzzles at him, tongue poking out for a soft swipe over his lips. “I haven’t, you know,” he says. “Fucked on a plane.”

Brian looks at him, smiling faintly. “Not even a quickie with a hot flight attendant in the bathroom? And I though I’d taught you so well.” He fends off Justin’s swat to his head easily, catching his hand and pressing it to his mouth.

God, Justin thinks. Shit. Fuck. I am so gone.

To Brian, he bats his lashes coyly and murmurs, “Guess you’re my first. Again.”

A soft look of something passes over Brian’s face, but Justin doesn’t have much time to study it because then they’re kissing, rougher this time, running ravenous hands over each other’s bodies.

“Did you mean it?” Justin asks, between kisses. Brian makes a vague questioning noise and goes back to trying to swallow him whole. Justin loses the thought for a moment, then gets it back. “Making me come as we take off,” he says.

Brian laughs into his mouth. “Yes, Sunshine, I meant it,” he says, shaking his head jokingly, dropping little kisses over the corners of Justin’s mouth as he does. He slides a hand under him, feeling him open just barely for one dry fingertip. “Gonna feel so good, you have no idea.”

The bed is soft, amazingly so, considering, and Justin allows himself to sink back into it. Brian breathes out, “Quiet,” as he enters him, giving a meaningful glance to the crack between the ceiling and the top of the divider wall. Justin nods and kisses him, letting Brian swallow all his noises before they can reach the air.

Brian fucks him slow but brutally, devastatingly hard, pulling out for maybe fifteen seconds or more before slamming back in, one hand over Justin’s mouth to muffle his pleading moans. It’s utter torture, Brian using all his considerable prowess to keep him right on the edge without being able to make it over. Every time he bucks or thrashes or whimpers, Brian just shushes him softly, kisses him with gentle hands tangled in his hair, and then pins him down to ram into him so hard he feels it in his teeth.

For Justin, it’s heaven.

Brian fucks him until he’s almost crying from how good it feels, until his spine is aching from being locked in a rigid arch against him. He fucks him until Justin’s quivering legs fall to his waist, until Justin’s clenching hands have drawn wrinkles in the sheets, and then he fucks him some more.

It’s forty-five minutes before they’re in the air, at least. Justin has silent tears streaming down his face, his lovely skin flushed dark under his eyes. “ _Please_ ,” he whispers, “I need to-”, but he doesn’t use the safeword, doesn’t ask Brian to stop, so Brian just gathers his trembling body into his arms and flutters soothing kisses over Justin’s hot face, his neck and his shoulders. Justin clings to him even as Brian keeps shoving into him hard enough to force tiny involuntary gasps from his mouth each time.

Finally, finally, the plane rumbles and the tone of the engines changes and they start to accelerate smoothly down the runway. “Ready?” Brian murmurs.

Justin nods frantically, gripping Brian’s waist. “Please, please,” he whispers, like a chant. “Give it to me, Brian.”

They’re picking up speed now. Brian knows the pitch of the engines well enough to have a decent running countdown in his head, and when they’re ten seconds from takeoff he starts fucking Justin in earnest and jerking him off as he does. Justin nearly shrieks, biting Brian’s shoulder to hide it, clutching at him, curling up into him. He’s shaking with the effort of it, cursing under his breath, and Brian’s worried that they won’t make it in time but- _there_ , there it is. The plane lifts off the tarmac in a stomach-swooping moment of intensified gravity, and Justin comes, sinking his teeth into Brian’s skin hard enough to draw blood, and the sharp shock of pain combined with the way Justin’s ass is pulsing on his cock is an instant trigger for Brian’s own orgasm. Brian keeps fucking him, drawing it out as long as he can, until Justin gasps, “Please, I can’t-” and he relents.

Brian rolls off of him slowly, kissing his shoulder when he winces as Brian’s dick slips out. Justin is staring at him in awe, his mouth bruised to obscenity, tears still standing on his cheeks. Jesus, Brian thinks. He’s mine. God. Fuck.

Brian suddenly can’t wait another second to be holding him, so he pulls Justin into his arms and kisses him as deep and hard as he can. Justin sighs, content, and grinds up lazily against him, even while his hands fist greedily in Brian’s hair. 

“Welcome to the club,” Brian mumbles, smiling, when he can breathe again without needing Justin’s mouth on his.

Justin laughs and nuzzles fondly against him. “Thanks.”

Brian nips him. “So did it live up to your expectations?”

Justin grins, stretching softly, his glorious slender body tensing and relaxing in ways that make Brian’s heart try to escape his ribcage. “That and much, _much_ more,” he murmurs. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Brian says. Justin smirks knowingly at him and kisses him again, a long soft kiss this time. “Shit, I’m starving,” he says, pulling away.

Brian laughs. “They’ll serve lunch in half an hour.”

Justin rolls his eyes, but he kisses Brian on the cheek too, beaming. 

“Until then,” Brian murmurs, reaching across Justin’s warm firm chest for the plate of caviar and crackers, “why don’t we enjoy the good life a little?” He hands Justin the TV remote, and Justin grins again and kisses him. “What the hell, right?” he says.


	2. Chapter 2

Brian’s passed out under him, glutted on hours of midair fucking, and Justin’s not far off. He aches beautifully, all his muscles and tendons satisfactorily used. The plane is humming softly around them, dim evening light coming though the suite’s window, the only illumination, since the lights are off. 

Brian snuffles in his sleep and turns, holding Justin close to him. Justin closes his eyes at that, a sudden flood of all-consuming love and need and utter commitment drenching him as he lies here in Brian’s arms. 

Brian looks content as he sleeps. There’s a ring of bruises from Justin’s greedy sucking kisses below his collarbones, towards the shoulders - far out enough that an open-throated shirt won’t show them - and a scattering of bitemarks on his shoulder tendons. One of them is deep, deeper than Justin had meant, a last-ditch attempt to muffle a shocked scream of pleasure. The others are pink lovebites, and Justin kisses them one by one before reaching the last, the too-deep one with just a hint of scabbing over where his front teeth, his sharpest, had cut Brian. He kisses that one too, careful around the scabs.

Brian runs warm, always, his strong big elegant hands able to rub away any cold spots. Justin rests his cheek against his chest, relishing the heat of the skin. He presses his lips gently to Brian’s sternum, letting his tongue come out to taste him.

Brian shifts under him. His breathing quickens and he blinks, waking slowly. He smiles and runs a hand through Justin’s hair, kissing him just above his ear.

Justin kisses his neck. “Sorry for waking you,” he murmurs.

Brian hums and stretches, rubbing up against him. “’S fine,” he mumbles. “I always sleep better with you anyway.”

He kisses Justin on the mouth and wraps him up tighter in his arms, which gives Justin a little time to deal with the surge of feelings that casual fucking admission has brought up. Brian’s making satisfied little noises as they make out, stroking over his back with those warm warm hands. Justin slides one leg over Brian’s waist and lets the wash of sweet warm affection consume him while his cock perks up, stiffening steadily against Brian’s taut stomach.

Brian grins into his mouth and rubs his own hard cock into the crease of Justin’s thigh. Justin moans, pressing his mouth against Brian’s neck just in time to keep the sound low. Brian chuckles. “Again?” he murmurs, starting to rock against him, putting one hand around both their cocks. 

“Again,” Justin agrees, nodding and still kissing him.

* * *

They both fall asleep afterwards, spooning on Brian’s half of the bed. Brian has his arms wrapped around Justin from behind, holding him close under the covers. Justin looks back as his eyes drift closed and kisses him once more, very softly and slowly. 

Brian’s set an alarm for ninety minutes before landing, and when it wakes them bright daylight is filling their suite. The shower won’t fit both of them in any comfortable arrangement, so they take it in turns. 

Justin watches Brian emerge all freshly-scrubbed and golden and glorious, and he has to tear himself away from Brian’s body to go wash off himself. When he comes out of the bathroom, drying his hair on one of the fancy towels, Brian is in a suit - a fucking _hot_ suit, a dark three-piece pinstripe with narrow-leg pants and a cut that hugs his waist obscenely. 

“Jesus,” Justin breathes, only a little sarcastically, taking him in. Brian grins and twirls around once. “Like it?” he says. “Dior. Brand new. Gotta show off for the client.”

Justin grins and steps up to him to adjust the shirt he’s wearing, stark white with an open collar and no tie. “I don’t know, are you trying to seduce the client?”

Brian grins back. “Yes. Metaphorically.”

Justin shakes his head, still smiling. “It’s very unfair of you to wear this with me knowing you have an important meeting and I can’t wrinkle you up.”

Brian smirks and leads him over to the loveseat, sprawling down on it. “I’ll make you a deal,” he says, voice dropping half an octave. “When I get back tonight, we I’ll take you out for a nice romantic dinner-”

Justin tries not to snort in surprise.

“-and then,” Brian continues, tugging him down so he’s speaking right up against Justin’s mouth, “we can go back to the hotel and have hot, _hot_ sex until the sun comes up.”

Justin grins. “Sounds like a demanding schedule,” he says, brushing their noses against each other. “Sure you can handle it?”

Brian chuckles and kisses him, just a little gentle sweet one, and Justin can’t help but smile and kiss him back. “Oh, I’ll handle it, Sunshine,” he says, in that way he has when he’s making a particularly ludicrous innuendo. Justin just rests his head on his shoulder and smiles.

* * *

Paris is beautiful, light and airy in muted pinks and bright blues and creamy warm yellows. The hotel room is absurd, like a fucking palace, and Justin doesn’t ask but he’s sure Brian doesn’t always stay at places at quite this level of gilded classical luxury on his work trips. 

They check in and the cute clerk at the front desk brings their suitcases up - Justin’s currently considering whether he wants him to himself or whether an ass that pretty deserves both him and Brian at once - and Justin flops down on the cloudlike king-size bed, thinking of taking a jet-lag-induced nap. Brian laughs when he sees him stretched out on the bed with his clothes still on, then frenches him a long hot good-bye and heads out to work in his gorgeous suit and a new coat to top it off.

Justin does end up taking a nap before he goes exploring, but not a long one. He wakes up refreshed and goes wandering, getting lunch from a café by the Seine, watching passers-by in a park, sketching hawkers and buskers in a public square.

He’s on his way back to the hotel to meet Brian after work when he sees a store up ahead and has an idea. He has plenty of time to get back, he decides, so there’s no reason not to go take a look.

* * *

Brian almost tosses the roses into the river three or four times on his way to the hotel after the driver drops him off at the street vendor where he’d asked to stop. They’re pale yellow, the roses, twelve of them. Not red, not traditional. He wonders if Justin is allergic to the yellow ones. He wonders if Justin will laugh, or be angry, or be confused or worried or any of the other thousand reactions he could have.

He’s still holding the bouquet when he gets into the elevator, and when he gets out of it. His last chance to get rid of it is as he’s standing in front of the door, trying to find his key- and then the door opens and Justin’s standing there, staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Brian hands him the flowers, awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time where he felt this out of coordination in his own body. 

Justin takes the bouquet, looks at it, smells it with his eyes closed. Then the most gorgeous smile breaks over his face, and he’s looking at Brian, and Brian remembers to breathe.

“You bought me flowers,” Justin says, softly. 

Brian nods. Agreeing out loud seems stupid, since they both know it’s true.

Justin lays the bouquet carefully on the table nearest to the door, and then he’s flinging himself at Brian and kissing him, kissing him on his mouth and all over his face, warm and joyfully alive. “I love you,” Justin whispers. Brian closes his eyes and breathes.

They go out to dinner at a very classy, very French restaurant the client recommended when Brian asked, in a moment that was practically vomit-inducing, for a good place for a dinner date. Justin orders in flawless French, which is hotter than Brian could have imagined, and then grins across the table at him and says that at least he learned that much in school. Brian follows in English, to the waiter’s obvious amusement. 

The strangest thing is how normal it all feels. Justin asks about his day at work, like he always does, and Brian bitches about the picky client (ditto) and it just- works. Justin _fits_ here, he realizes, because he fits _anywhere_. As long as they’re together, they fit.

Brian is so madly fucking in love that he thinks he might be losing his mind from it.

They walk back to the hotel in the cool spring-evening air. Justin insists that they stop and make out in view of the glittering lit-up Eiffel Tower, and Brian doesn’t put much of a fight because he’s a little drunk on expensive wine and he can never say no to kissing Justin, not really.

Justin’s tipsy as well, he can tell from the singsong affect his voice has taken on and the way he wraps himself around Brian almost absentmindedly whenever they stop walking. By the time they make it to the hotel elevator, Brian has never been so close to risking a public indecency arrest for how badly he needs to fuck.

Justin lets him half-undress him in the elevator but stops him when he goes for his pants. “Wait until we’re inside,” Justin murmurs into his mouth, seductive, delicious and fucking perfect. “I have a little surprise for you.”

“Doesn’t seem that little to me,” Brian says, palming his dick - it’s a lame joke, but he’s having a hard time thinking about anything other than Justin’s huge thick cock and how much he wants to be choking on it.

Brian kisses him up against the door while Justin fumbles for the key, cursing and laughing. They stumble into the room, pulling at each other’s clothes. Brian practically carries him to the bedroom, kissing him ravenously. They fall into bed in each other’s arms, still in their underwear, a situation that Brian is working hard to rectify. 

Justin straddles his hips and grins down at him. Brian didn’t think it was possible for his cock to get any harder, but it does.

“You wanna see what I got for you today?” Justin murmurs, leaning over and picking up a large white paper bag with black tissue paper inside from the floor. There’s no logo on the outside.

Brian pulls the top layer of tissue off and looks inside, feeling a slow hungry grin spread over his face as he realizes exactly what Justin’s surprise is.

He pulls out the fine-grain leather-padded shackles and runs a finger around the edge. They’re strong, exquisitely made, and the leather is as smooth as silk. He looks over at Justin, who’s watching him caress the cuffs with an open-mouthed stare. Brian licks his lips. Justin swallows audibly.

“Keep looking,” Justin tells him, a little hoarsely.

Brian grins even wider, drawing a soft needy noise from him, and returns his attention to the bag. There’s a silk blindfold - classic - and a big black rubber dildo, really big, perfect for stuffing Justin full with while Brian rides him. And there’s something else, too, a longer item under another layer of tissue. Brian fishes in the bottom of the bag for it, watching Justin’s face, and then he grabs hold of one end and he realizes.

“Like it?” Justin says, maybe a little nervously.

Brian pulls out the short black riding crop and fingers the butter-soft leather on the wide end. It’s finely textured, not too shiny, and he has the urge to taste it, so he does, poking his tongue out to run it along the outer corners. Next to him, Justin makes a high-pitched moaning sound.

“You’re spoiling me, Sunshine,” Brian tells him, grinning again. Justin’s eyes are dilated nearly all the way to black, and he’s breathing fast. Brian moves toward him and kisses him, murmurs, “Thank you,” up against his parted lips. 

Justin’s tugging at his briefs, so he pulls them off and then goes for Justin’s. Justin squirms against him, biting his lip, and that’s when Brian realizes he’s wearing a big black rubber butt plug to match the dildo that was in the bag.

Brian can’t stifle a hungry moan, and Justin moans back in response. He turns Justin over, mostly gently, to get a better look. It’s a big plug, not the biggest he’s ever seen Justin take, but it must have been a hell of a time wearing it home and-

“Did you have this in at dinner?” Brian whispers, hoarse and frantic.

Justin nods into the pillow. “Wasn’t that bad. Felt good.”

Brian chokes down a whimper and lets go of the threadbare remains of his sanity. He licks down Justin’s back until he reaches the plug and slurps hungrily all around the toy’s base while Justin groans and swears loudly above him. 

“Hands behind your back,” Brian says. Justin whimpers into the mattress and obeys. Brian clicks the new cuffs on. Justin moans and strains against them, flushed to his shoulders the way he only gets when he’s turned on beyond belief. 

“Feel good?” Brian asks him. Justin nods rapidly, still moaning weakly.

Brian grins and works the plug quickly out of him, being careful not to pull too fast but still making sure Justin really feels it. He goes wild when he’s at the just-right balance of pleasure and pain.

Justin shivers once the plug is out. “Brian-” he gasps, and breaks off, but Brian knows what he needs, lubing up the dildo and pushing it in. Justin sobs when it’s fully seated in him and rolls his hips and groans, eyes going back in his head.

Brian’s suddenly reminded of his thoughts from earlier, in the elevator. He turns Justin back over.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says. Justin’s glassy beautiful eyes zero in on him. “You can come whenever you want, as many times as you want. But I’m going to keep on fucking you and sucking you and spanking you until I’m satisfied, all right? I won’t stop unless you say the safeword or pass out. Got it?”

Justin nods, his teeth sunk in his bottom lip. His cock is straining painfully upwards. “That looks uncomfortable,” Brian murmurs. Justin nods again, more quickly, whispers, “please-” 

In a singe practiced move, Brian leans down and takes him in clear to the back of his throat.

Justin howls. “Fuck,” he moans, “oh, shit, Brian, that feels so- good, fuck, suck me, oh god-”

Brian sucks, hard, and Justin bucks up even deeper into his mouth. Brian can tell that he’s about to come, but he tries to draw it out a little, for Justin, to give him enough time before he’s hit by what seems to be building up to be an absolutely spectacular orgasm.

Justin’s thighs tense under him, and Brian pulls back just in time to get a faceful of cum. He licks at it around his mouth, and then Justin moans, loud, “oh god get _up_ here,” and he licks the rest off in between starving greedy kisses.

Justin’s looking up at him with this dreamy smile. “Best is yet to come, Sunshine,” Brian tells him. Justin keeps smiling as he’s turned back over.

Brian surveys the as-yet-unused toys. He doesn’t think they’ll be using the blindfold tonight, but the crop, on the other hand...

He picks it up. It’s a beautiful instrument, weighted perfectly. It looks like sex and power and control, all his favorite things. God, I love you, Sunshine, Brian thinks.

He strokes the wide end of the crop down Justin’s spine. The effect is immediate: Justin starts trembling and moaning in earnest, rubbing back against him. “You ready?” Brian says, toying with the crop just above his ass. “Yes,” Justin gasps. “I’m ready, I’m ready, you fucker-”

Brian raises the crop up, not too high, and brings it down neatly in the center of Justin’s right ass cheek, leaving a bright pink triangular mark.

Justin screams, struggling against the restraints. Brian sits across his thighs to hold him down. “Want another?” Brian murmurs, low. “Yes, yes, more, give me more, oh god-” Justin moans, so Brian brings the crop back down, a little harder, just off-center on the new mark.

Fifteen minutes in, Justin’s ass is a patchwork of pink triangles and the occasional handprint. He’s come at least once more, rubbing frantically off against the sheets and sobbing Brian’s name. He’s whimpering constantly now, a steady flow of pleas for more, harder, faster. Brian is so hard he’s starting to see double.

“I need to fuck you,” he gasps, rolling a condom on as gently as he can. Justin nods his desperate assent and Brian pulls the dildo out, accompanied by a stream of moans and curses. He slides home and Justin gasps and pushes back and begs him to move, so he does.

Everything here is beautiful now, slick hot skin and dark sweat, kisses that taste like salt. Brian fucks him hard, hard enough to force him down from his knees into a frog-legged flat pose against the mattress. Justin is shaking and moaning and it sounds like he might be fucking praying. Brian feels more than a little faint.

Justin comes again, the third (fourth? oh, god) time tonight. He clenches brutally around Brian, and that’s all there is to it; Brian comes so hard his vision fades to gray.

“Oh my fucking god,” Justin breathes, five or ten or forty minutes later. Brian pulls out of him as gently as he can and tosses the condom.

“I think, all in all, you win the gift-giving contest today,” Brian pants, rolling onto his back, his chest heaving.

Justin grins weakly at him and glances over at the vase of yellow roses on the bedroom’s small round table. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d say you did pretty good.”


End file.
